Welcome to听Tough Love. Every other week, we鈥檙e answering your questions about dating, breakups, and everything in between. Our advice giver is Blair Braverman, dogsled racer and author of听. Have a question of your own? Write to us at toughlove@outsideim.com.
My dog Kelsey was hit by a car when she was off leash on a hike,听the same hike we鈥檝e taken literally every week for years. She was always really good at staying close to me but last week she heard another dog barking and ran ahead to the trailhead into the parking lot. It was getting dark and a driver wasn鈥檛 looking. It鈥檚 my fault. She was my first dog and my best friend. I keep shaking. I can never get another dog. I feel like I could never deserve one. She was a rescue mutt and I鈥檝e had her for nine years. My whole adult life. I work from home so she was with me all day. I don鈥檛 know how I can go on without her.
I had a dog named Queen, I called her my soul dog, who died in an accident. She was always with me; not just with me, but on me, around my shoulders or on my lap, always touching. I was dealing with a serious illness听 and struggling to get through the days. Once, my husband found me crying in a closet. Without speaking, he went and got Queen and put her in the closet with me. He knew that as long as I was with her鈥擨 was always with her, always鈥擨鈥檇 be OK.
One day I had to leave town for work, and it was beautiful out, July, so instead of keeping Queen inside I woke up extra-early to set up a pen for her in the yard鈥攚ith shade, chew toys, a kiddie swimming pool, everything I thought she鈥檇 like. She broke through the fence and was killed by another dog. If I鈥檇 made different choices, if I鈥檇 left her inside on that beautiful day, she鈥檇 still be alive.
She was four. It was awful. I was awful. I sobbed every day for a year. I became terrified that if I ever loved a dog again as much as I鈥檇 loved Queen, that dog would die. It wasn鈥檛 logical, but it was a kind of grief logic. The worst thing in the world is not being able to protect the ones we love.听
Things happen. Sometimes they happen to other people, and sometimes they happen to us. I鈥檓 so sorry this happened to Kelsey. I鈥檓 so sorry this happened to you.
鈥淚t鈥檚 my fault.鈥听You鈥檙e doing two things right now. You鈥檙e grieving, a grief that feels like it鈥檚 tearing you apart, and you鈥檙e destroying yourself with guilt. You need to separate the two. They feel the same, but they鈥檙e not.
You did not kill your dog. You went hiking with her, and you let her off leash when you thought things would be fine. On any other day, if there was a close call鈥攁nd it should have been a close call, if things hadn鈥檛 lined up just so鈥攜ou would learn from this. You鈥檇 decide never to do it again, and you wouldn鈥檛. You鈥檇 put her on-leash as you approached the trailhead. You鈥檇 get her a reflective vest. You鈥檇 learn. So, learn from this. That鈥檚 what guilt gives us: the knowledge of how to do things right in the future.
You didn鈥檛 know.听
Separate the guilt from the grief. The guilt is a lesson, contained. The grief is unlimited. The grief is what needs to heal.听
鈥淚 can never get another dog.鈥听By saying this, you鈥檙e sinking into your mourning by telling yourself that it will extend forever. And you鈥檙e promising yourself that you鈥檒l never mourn like this again.
Maybe your life will go on and you鈥檒l never want another pet. But that鈥檚 not something to think about now. Now is not the time to make decisions for the rest of your life. You鈥檙e just making decisions for each day.
Maybe, one day, you鈥檒l be ready. You鈥檒l see a puppy in a photo, a rescue who needs a home, and it will feel like family finding itself. You鈥檒l never love another dog the same way you loved Kelsey. But you are exquisitely capable of love, and you might love another dog听in its own way.
When the time comes, if the time comes, the question won鈥檛 be whether you deserve another dog. The question will be whether that dog deserves a home, a second chance, a family. And, if so, if you choose to give it one.听
鈥淗ow do I get through this?鈥听Dogs鈥 lives are short to us, but not to them. To them, their lives are the length of lives.
The burden of this, the hardship, falls on us鈥攚e outlive our best friends. But it also allows us to give them a gift. A dog can pass through puppyhood, adulthood, and old age in the company of caring humans. They can live their whole lives on earth in a cocoon of love.听听听
Dogs exist in each moment. They are shallow in the best of ways: their life consists of the things they鈥檙e experiencing now. They want to be loved, they want attention and snacks and walks, they want gentle hands on their fur while they drift to sleep. The best thing we can do for dogs is to make their moments good. If their moments are good, then their lives are good, too.
And when we lose them?
They give us one last gift, which is that we can grieve like dogs. Moment by moment. Not by living in the past or the future, but by taking the sorrow as it comes.听
When it feels too painful to exist, knowing that Kelsey is gone, all you can do is distract yourself until time passes. Watch movies. Do things that require concentration, like playing an instrument or practicing a sport. Now isn鈥檛 the time for long, silent walks鈥攗nless long, silent walks are what you need. You could volunteer at an animal shelter or you could avoid other dogs completely. Whatever you need to do, sob or paint or run, is the right thing to do.听
When it feels unendurable, remember that the intensity of your pain reflects the intensity of the love that Kelsey knew and felt.听
It鈥檚 a miracle that we love dogs and that dogs love us. It鈥檚 a miracle that you found each other. Kelsey knew how much you loved her. She felt it each moment. Somewhere, somehow, she鈥檚 living in those moments still.